Friends Remembered
by lastpaperbender
Summary: Many years have passed since the cataclysm in which Karal lost both his sight and his friend, the Companion Florian. Now he is the teacher of young Alaric, a boy who seems oddly familiar, and who find Karal familiar in return. Please R&R, and let me know
1. Chapter 1

Author's note: Okay, I think I've got this thing fixed--the site replaced the text for this chapter with the text from Chap. 2. Anyway, thank you to everyone who has sent in a review--I appreciate it!

--Emily

Despite many years of seeing through Altra's eyes, Karal always felt disconcerted when he saw himself in a mirror. He had gotten used to simple things, like walking, sitting, and even reading and writing—but there was something eerie about seeing the back of his own head, then the reflected image of his face pressed close to the Firecat's. He had always tried to accept his hardship gracefully and with dignity, as befitted a priest of Vkandis, the Sunlord—but tiny details like that continuously reminded him that what he saw was not coming from his own eyes. Sometimes, when Altra had gone to sleep for the night, and Karal's sight was dark, he could still faintly make out the silhouette of a horse etched against the blackness—Florian.

::You've got some new gray hairs around your temples,:: Altra helpfully pointed out, washing a fire-colored paw while Karal contemplated. ::Who put them there this time?::

The priest shrugged his thin shoulders and smiled slightly, coming out of his reverie. ::Who knows? It could be the handiwork of any number of my students.:: He leaned forward to examine the spot in question, and Altra leaned forward to oblige him. Sure enough, there were a few more strands of silver in his dark, Karsite hair, a few more lines at the corners of his hooded, unfocused eyes; his face had grown a little harder and more angular, losing the softness of youth.

::If I were in a position to place a bet, my money would be on that unruly young Markev. I'll give him a good swipe next time he's in range...:: Altra interjected.

::Don't bother, Altra. He's not worth soiling your dainty little claws with.::

The Firecat made a "harrumph" sound in his throat to emphasize just what he thought of that.

::Besides,:: Karal added, stroking one of his friend's bright, pointed ears and turning away from the mirror, ::the years will just add more anyway.::

Altra leapt down from the priest's shoulder, briefly disorienting Karal, then led the way down the hall towards the Heraldic College.

----

"And he's got this weird cat, with fur that looks like fire, and it follows him everywhere...and if you give him a wrong answer, he'll make it jump on you and claw your eyes out!" Markev sneered unpleasantly and watched the new boy's reaction. Young Alaric's sharp, pointed face registered a defiant skepticism, but there was a healthy fear in his blue eyes that the older boy liked to see.

"I think you're lying," Alaric retorted, tossing his head in a way that made a brown curl of hair fall over his eyes. He brushed it back hastily. "If that had really happened, everyone would have heard about it."

"They keep it hushed up, or else nobody would let their sons or daughters take a class from him—and they have to have him here, to keep Karse happy."

Another boy, a blue-clad young man whose face wore a kinder expression, gave a snort of laughter.

"They keep him because he's a good teacher, Markev," he said. "Of course, you wouldn't know that, since you never do the assignments and you're asleep half the time you're here."

Markev's back stiffened, and he was about to throw the first punch at the other boy when the click of nails on the marble floor caught their ears.

An enormous cat had stepped into the room. Their teacher stood in the doorway, one arm folded around a pile of books and papers, the other reaching down to touch the being that strode at his side.

"Good afternoon, everyone," he said with exquisite irony, the faint smile on his lips betraying the fact that he'd heard every word of the conversation. Alaric did not see this, though—he stood frozen in place as the Firecat approached and sniffed him with delicate nostrils. All of the temper he had shown a moment ago to Markev vanished. Breaking his paralysis, he gracelessly stumbled back a step, only to find himself pinned between the creature and one of the tables near the front of the room.

The priest was strangely motionless as the Firecat examined Alaric from head to toe, and the dark, unseeing eyes narrowed, as if watching something from a distance. Then, slowly, he turned, set his books and papers down, and used his hands to find his way to the seat. The cat turned away and leapt up beside him, suddenly dwindling in size. Karal slowly stroked him, and turned his head vaguely in Alaric's direction.

"I apologize if Altra alarmed you," he said gently. "You are a new student, I take it?"

Alaric felt his heart begin to beat once more, and he nodded weakly. "Yes sir...I'm...I'm Alaric sir," he said, some of his spirit and vitality returning. "I was chosen by my Companion, Corsen, maybe two weeks past...and they've just now put me in your class, sir..."

Karal smiled again. "Well, my congratulations to you, then," he said. "Here's a copy of our last reading—you can follow along for today, and finish the next section tonight. Why don't you sit with Perian?" He gestured to the boy who had stood up to Markev earlier. Alaric nodded, and took his place.

The papers Karal had given them were an epic detailing the struggle between an early Karsite hero and a Valdemaran "infidel" riding a white demon-horse. As interesting as it was, however, Alaric could not concentrate upon it—his attention was drawn to the man who sat before the class, with a book in his hand and the cat at his elbow. Naturally, Alaric had heard something of Karal—word of the uneasy peace with Karse and the stilling of the Mage Storms had spread to even the tiniest towns and farmsteads of Valdemar, and this man's name with it. But seeing him in the flesh, being in the same room with him, had changed Alaric's perspective considerably. Karal did not look quite as austere as he'd imagined him—he was older than the youth who had shaped history, to be sure, but he wore it well. The face looked weary and careworn, but the lines of age and worry would disappear when Karal smoothed them with that slight smile. Alaric had known him for less than an hour's time, but he felt like they were old and comfortable friends. The boy chewed his thumbnail idly. Was it simply that the man was a good teacher, or was there something more to it? Why did that kindly dark face seem so familiar?


	2. Chapter 2

Karal sat at the desk for a long time after the hour of class had ended, thoughts and expression troubled. Even if he hadn't had Altra's sight, he would never have missed the powerful presence Alaric exuded. It was the same soul Karal had known and loved years before, simply put into a new shape. The encounter had left him deeply shaken, frightened and joyful at the same time. He'd managed to conceal his shock when Alaric had been in the room and to teach the class without incident; but now that he was alone, he felt too weak to stand and too deliriously happy to leave the room.

::Karal, you're treading dangerous ground,:: Altra warned, jumping up beside him. ::You understand that you can't ever tell him that you've known him before? That is not the way of things!::

::Yes, I understand that,:: the priest answered, reaching out to the Firecat to stroke the soft fur and soothe him. ::I'm no fool, Altra. I know I can't cross that boundary. But surely I may rejoice that he has returned to me? Is there any harm in that?::

::There can be, if you are not careful. You have proven yourself to be intelligent and discreet already...but can you trust yourself, when your emotions are running so high? Even the wisest men and women cannot always control themselves when their hearts are brimming over.::

::Altra, I'll restrain myself! Don't worry about that. Only....only I am so glad to have him back, even if he does not remember me...::

::I think he does remember you, though...at least a little...::

Karal started in his seat. ::What?::

::He was watching you the whole time today. He had a very odd expression.::

::Maybe he was watching you. I think you frightened him when you came in.::

::No—he was studying your face. Intently, I might add.::

The priest leaned back uneasily in his seat. ::Well, so what I am supposed to do if he does recognize me?:: he asked. ::I can't ask him to leave the class or anything and give him some flimsy lie as an explanation! Altra--:: He leaned forward, and laid a hand on the Firecat's neck. ::I'll guard myself. Don't worry.::

Altra flicked his tail, and gave a sort of mental sigh. ::Mind that you don't,:: he replied at last. ::It's not just you I'm worried about—young Alaric could get hurt, too, if he doesn't fully understand his history with you. So just...be careful.::

::I will. But if I already seem familiar to him, who is to say he won't figure it out for himself? Florian's death is recorded in the history books for that year...and there are plenty of people around Haven who remember how close we were.::

::He won't know what to look for specifically—and he may forget about the matter entirely as he comes to know you as a teacher. My advice would be to befriend him as he is now. Get to know him as Alaric, not Florian.::

Karal sighed, and stroked the Firecat's neck. ::You're right of course,:: he said at length. ::Yes, I'll do as you say. It will be very hard to not think of him as Florian, but I will work at it. Thank you, Altra.::

His friend purred softly under Karal's hand. ::You're welcome.::

-----

Alaric smiled as Corsen affectionately lipped his fingertips, still incredulous that he had been Chosen—he, the smallest and most troublesome of the four Damarene boys, the ne'er-do-well, the one who would never amount to a clump of dirt! Now he was here in Haven, called to a high destiny as one Valdemar's elite Heralds—it was hardly to be believed. He stoked Corsen's long, graceful nose—no, the splendid white-pelted creature was no illusion. The Companion stamped her silver, ringing hoof, as if to emphasize the point. Alaric laughed, and impulsively threw his arms around her neck.

"No, you're very real!" he said. "I was stupid to doubt it." He combed his fingers through her mane, remembering the morning she had come for him. The expressions on his fathers' and brothers' faces had been priceless. Alaric did not miss them—there had been ten children in the Damarene family, with little love to go around. The village he had lived in near the Rethwellen border had been quaint and picturesque in its way, but had reeked with the stagnant air of a place which offered no opportunities. The farmers and townsfolk were comfortable in their unchanging routines, and reviled those who sought after more, accusing them of "getting above their raisings."

"Well, I'm out of their hair now," Alaric muttered to Corsen. "They've seen the back of me forever, for I'm to be a Herald--"

He choked off his words as he heard footsteps and two voices coming near, a man and a woman.

"An'desha, I can't in good faith ask that of Karal, not after what happened the last time."

"What other choice is there? He's the only Channel we know of—who else could we ask?"

Alaric ducked behind the wall of Corsen's stall as the Shin'a'in shaman An'desha and Captain Kerowyn came into view—something told him that this conversation was not meant for his ears, but the mention of Karal intrigued him. What was a Channel, and what did the term have to do with the man Alaric had met earlier?

"There must be one among the Tayledras who would be willing to help," Kerowyn said, a scowl crossing her face. "Karal can't be the only one in the world."

"No, certainly not—but the problem's in Karse, and who better to ask than our own Karsite Ambassador, who just happens to be a Channel? Think of it--"

Kerowyn whirled around. "It's too much to ask of him!" she said fiercely. "You were there the last time he channeled that much magic; you know what it cost him; and you of all people ought to understand why he shouldn't have to go through that again!"

Alaric held his breath during the long, tense silence that followed, afraid of discovery. He knew Karal had somehow been involved in neutralizing the magical storms that he torn up the country years ago—but what loss did they speak of? What had happened to the priest at that time?

"I think you're doing him a great disservice, Kero," An'desha said after a moment, lowering his voice. "Karal is the last person who would ever begrudge us his skills in a time of need, no matter what he's been through."

The Captain's resolve seemed to weaken at this, for she turned away and stroked the neck of her own Companion, Sayvil—there was a troubled expression upon her face. "I know what you're saying," she said quietly, after a moment, "but I can't help but worry about it. The weapons in the Dhorisha plains already stole his sight—what will this one do?"

"I don't know, Kero" An'desha answered. "I don't think any mage living could tell you—there's no guarantee that it's safe. But men and women don't become great by doing only safe and easy things."

"Well, hasn't Karal already accomplished enough great things? He's--" The Captain stopped mid-sentence and sighed. "Ask him. Ask Karal himself. It's really not for me to say what he can and can't face. Only he knows his limits."

An'desha nodded respectfully. "I will ask him myself," he said. "Please, have faith in him, Kero—I do."


	3. Chapter 3

A deep and peaceful darkness surrounded Karal—just the way he liked it. He was grateful to Altra for the loan of his sight, but there were times when both priest and Firecat needed to be alone with their own, private thoughts. Karal, for one, had much to ponder. Would he truly be able to keep his promise not to reveal his past to Alaric? Contemplation and restraint were two virtues drilled into servants of the Sunlord—but the temptation was so great. He laid his head back, feeling a cool evening wind touch his face, catching the scent of night-blooming florets—over how many lifetimes had he and Florian-Alaric known each other? How many circling years had they passed together, ever exchanging the roles of teacher and pupil? Karal sighed, knowing the answer to the mystery would not be revealed—even if Vkandis saw fit to enlighten him, he was bound to forget it again. But Alaric was here, now—that was enough.

The sound of footsteps nearby caught Karal's attention, breaking his reverie. "Who's there?" he called, raising his head.

"A friend," came a soft, amused voice.

The priest smiled in response. "An'desha," he said. "It has been to long since I last heard your voice." He listened as the footsteps came closer, and reached out his hand when he felt a warm body draw near. An'desha's clasped it in a wordless greeting.

"I didn't know that you had returned to Haven," Karal continued, "but I am glad you are back." Silently, he wondered what auspices of the God had brought his two best-loved friends back to him on the same day.

An'desha's hand tightened briefly around his, then pulled away. "I am not here for pleasant reasons, I fear," the Shin'a'in sighed, sitting down next to his friend on the garden bench. "Selenay asked me to come, after consulting with Solaris—they've found a devise in Karse, just outside of the city of Arsendis. No one knows how it got there, but it looks almost exactly like the weapons we found at Urtho's Tower, back when we were young together. Well, when you were young, at least. Never mind—the point is, now that it's been discovered, Solaris wants to deal with it before some farmer or child gets curious and decides to tamper with it--" An'desha stopped suddenly, and made a sound like he was inhaling deeply. "Karal, I must ask a favor you—one which you may not want to grant."

"You need a Channel," Karal said quietly, feeling as if all his breath had left him.

The Shin'a'in made a sound of affirmation. "I'm sorry," he said, "but we can't find anyone else." He touched the Karsite's shoulder. "You don't need to give me an answer right now. I know...I know how much it is to ask of you, after the last time. But please think about it."

"I will," Karal answered gravely. "I will."

-----

"Thank you," An'desha said sincerely, touching Karal's shoulder affectionately. "But for now, let us speak of happier things—how have you been? As you say, it's been far too long."

The Karsite man smiled gently, closing his sightless eyes. "Pretty well, all in all," he answered. "I'm happy here—nothing gives me as much pleasure as teaching, and sharing all I know. Although, I think the students are a little afraid of me..."

The Shin'a'in had to chuckle. "Not of you, surely! You're the most mild-mannered man I know. No offense, but--"

"None taken," Karal answered, smiling again. There were still traces of the boy An'desha remembered from years before, though the rich black hair was shot through with silver, and the dun-colored skin was taut and worn with the passage of time. "It's not in my nature to breathe smoke and fire down on people. I suspect many of them are in awe of Altra, though—well, Altra and my blindness."

"Your blindness? How?"

The priest's face took on a thoughtful expression. "You'd be surprised how many people are intimidated by a disability like mine—they are unsure how to act, what to say and do. As if I needed to be treated differently..." He shook his head. "Well, perhaps it would be different if I didn't have Altra. I owe him a great deal—without him, I wouldn't be able to read or write or teach, or even get around very well, I suppose."

"I'm sure no one would begrudge you the help, considering that you gave your sight to save all of them."

Karal shrugged. "Well, I am grateful to Altra. I don't think I could stand being dependent upon anyone else. That's how Natoli and I--" He broke off suddenly, turning his face away as he flushed a dusky red.

An'desha frowned. When he had left, all had been moonlight and roses between his two friends, the Karsite envoy and the young Artificer. "You're not together?" he asked quietly.

The Karsite shook his head and turned back to An'desha, seemingly recovered from his embarrassment. "No," he answered, "we haven't been for some time. She was young and I was young—it didn't last more than a few months after I got back. I couldn't ask her to spend her life nursing a blind man, not when she had so much talent herself, and so much she could accomplish with the other Artificers. It would have been unfair to ask her to throw all that away for my sake." Karal combed his fingers through the falling wings of black hair that framed his face. "I don't think it would have lasted long, even if I hadn't come back blind," he said at length. "We were both too devoted to other things—I to Vkandis and to the students I was given, she to her theories and inventions. We would have gone our separate ways one day—it just happened sooner, rather than later."

An'desha sat back, trying to absorb this news. "You've been alone since then?" he asked.

The other man nodded slowly. "Anyway, but she and I are still friends. She's married now, with a daughter, Jehane. She's only four, but she's quite precocious—she shows every sign of being as bright as her mother. Altra and I join them for dinner once in a while."

"Hmm." The Shin'a'in shaman idly bit his nail as he thought.

"Hmm, what?" Karal asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"I'm just surprised, that's all—you and Natoli were the favorite pairing to watch for quite a while, you know; you seemed perfect for each other."

The Karsite shrugged again, obviously wishing he hadn't brought up the subject. "Well, these things don't always work out, as you see—besides, love between two naïve young people isn't usually the real deal."

"True enough—you're right about that," An'desha said. After all, his own youthful match with the Adept Firesong had been nothing short of disastrous. Still, he was astonished that a man like Karal hadn't found anyone else in the years that had passed since the accident—he'd always envisioned his friend with a family of his own in years to come. The Karsite seemed deeply committed to the young people now under his tutelage—why hadn't he started a family of his own? An'desha couldn't help but think there was something the priest wasn't telling him about the break with Natoli.

His thoughts were interrupted as a sleek, white and fire-colored form sauntered into his line of sight.

::Hello, An'desha,:: Altra said pleasantly in his mind. ::Welcome back to Haven. I've just come to collect Karal for a council meeting...although I think he's got a visitor who might take some time..::

The Shin'a'in turned to see a boy with wide blue eyes and unruly brown curls standing nearby.

Karal rose suddenly, looking unusually pale beneath his dark complexion. "Alaric," he said. "What are you doing here?"


	4. Chapter 4

Alaric recoiled from the sharp tone of his mentor's voice, surprised at how agitated he seemed.

"I...I came to ask you about the assignment," he said, hoping Karal wouldn't see through the improvised lie. In truth he had come to confront the Karsite man, to relentlessly pursue the familiarity between then until he knew the full truth of what lay between them—but all of his resolve deserted him now.

Karal shifted uneasily from foot to foot, no calmer than before.

"Can it wait until later?" he asked. "I have to be at a council meeting shortly, but I'm free after that."

"No...no, don't worry about it...I'll ask Perian about it," Alaric said. He turned on his heel, and left as quickly as he had come. His feet took him to the Companions' Field; Corsen leaned over the fence as he approached, concerned, and touched his shoulder with her nose.

::What's wrong, Chosen?:: she asked. ::Why are you so upset?::

The boy did not answer, but climbed over the fence, threw his arms around the Companion's neck, and led the way over to the privacy of a small stand of trees. As soon as they were shielded from the sight of the other Companions and anyone else who might pass by, Alaric let go, turned, and buried his face in Corsen's mane. He fought back his tears, but a few rebellious drops leaked from the corners of his eyes onto his friend's white neck.

::Alaric, what's the matter? You've closed your mind against me,:: Corsen said gently.

Her Chosen made a small gulping sound, and wiped his red-rimmed eyes.

"I can't explain it," he said in a quavering voice. "It sounds stupid to say it but...why is Karal angry with me?" He gulped again. "I can't understand it—he likes everyone else in the class just fine, but when I speak up or do something, he acts so strange. I can't think of anything I've said or done to give offense...why does he treat me differently from the others?"

Corsen was silent for a long moment, apparently lost in thought. Then she shook her mane, and made a sound like a sigh. ::I'm sorry, Chosen:: she said, ::I'm sorry you're caught in all of this. Don't judge Karal too harshly, for his hands are also tied. I'll bespeak Altra, and see if there isn't a way to sort this out.::

Alaric nodded, and clasped his Companion's neck again—Corsen's words were sensible, but they were no comfort for the present.

-----

::That was ill-done, Karal,:: Altra said as they made their way from the council chamber to the priest's apartments.

::Yes, I know,:: the Karsite answered sharply, ::you don't need to point it out to me—I already feel terrible.:: He stopped when he saw the door of his room before him, and turned. ::I'm sorry, Altra—I didn't mean to snap at you. But all this secrecy and deception is wearing my patience thin. How much longer will this go on? Will I have to live the rest of my life always within sight of Alaric, yet forbidden to tell him that I've known him before, that I've always known him? It's hard, friend—I did not guess before how hard it would be!::

He felt Altra's tail lashing at his side. Then the Firecat made a noise like a sigh. ::I forget sometimes that you are still a mortal, with a mortal's heart,:: his friend said, a trace of his old humor returning. ::Perhaps it is too much to ask that you ignore that heart of yours. Well, I shall see what can be done, but only if you tell one thing.::

::And what is that?::

::What did you speak of with An'desha this morning?::

Karal sighed—Altra deserved to know. ::There is a mage-weapon that has been found in Karse—they need a Channel to deal with it.::

::He asked you?::

::Yes—I'm the only one they know of.::

::Of all the nerve...! Did you agree?::

::I didn't give him an answer—I told him I needed think about it.:: Karal turned the door handle, and went into the anteroom of his quarters. Although he and Altra were not audibly speaking to one another, he preferred to have this conversation in private.

::Are you angry?:: he asked of the Firecat.

::Not angry, no. But...hmm...:: His friend trailed off for a moment, then continued. ::Karal, you're no fool,:: he said. ::You've got no illusions about what they're asking of you, or what the price may be. It's your decision, not mine.::

The priest ran a finger down the embroidered collar of his robe—how long had it been since he had taken his vows in Vkandis' name? He had not seen his home since he was a young man, since he had come to Valdemar as Ulrich's secretary. Though he had made his home in a foreign land for many years, his oath was still to Karse and to Karse's God—he was in honor bound to deal with this threat for them, to protect his countrymen. He also owed it to Selenay, to An'desha, to those who looked to him for a solution to this problem—though they never said it, he knew the deep and hard-won faith they had in his strength, in his commitment to protecting the world they knew. There were others who could teach the young Heralds the history and literature of Karse, there were others who could serve as ambassadors—but there was no one else they could ask to serve as a Channel.

Why am I approaching this decision as if I were going to die, he wondered. Who knows, I could survive. But he knew the risks of what he faced—he knew he faced, if not the certainty, at least the possibility of dying. Was he prepared to give up his life into Vkandis' hands if the God so chose? Yes, he thought. Yes—I have lived my life in such a way that, when my time comes, I can face the God without shame or regret.

Altra jumped up onto Karal's shoulder, whiskers tickling his cheek.

::You've come to a decision?:: the Firecat ask, mind-voice strangely subdued.

::Yes—I'll tell An'desha tomorrow. I'm prepared to do what he asks—I'm reconciled to whatever comes. But Altra, I'm still afraid, as anyone with a human heart would be—you will stand beside me?::

::Always.::


	5. Chapter 5

"Where am I? What is this place?" Alaric called out as he whirled around, trying to make out any discernable shapes through the fog that surrounded him. His last memory was of curling up into the warm layers of his bed, listening to the other Heralds-in-Training moving nearby in the dark. He heard the silvery chiming of a Companion's hooves behind him, and turned to see Corsen approaching. Perhaps something about this place distorted his sight, but it seemed that her form wavered back and forth between that of a white horse and that of a young woman, dark-haired, and with a sober face. Just now, however, a small smile was playing on the woman's mouth, and there was an amused gleam in the Companion's blue eyes. ::I don't supposed any of your teachers have ever spoken to you of the Moonpaths?:: she asked, stamping a hoof in the silver dust beneath their feet.

Alaric shook his head. "I've never heard of them before—is that where we are?"

The horse and woman nodded together. ::I will tell you about them later—but we are here for an important reason now. Look, here come the others.::

The young man felt his back stiffen as Karal and Altra materialized from the gentle swirls of mist—he remembered what Corsen had said earlier, about being "caught in all of this." So he wasn't crazy—he and the Karsite man were indeed bound together in some way, for some purpose. Now, they were here together. Alaric swallowed hard as the older man drew near, looking just as wary as his student.

"This must be a dream," the Karsite said with a harsh laugh. "I can't believe it. I'm seeing you with my own eyes..." His expression and voiced gentled when he recognized the young Herald-trainee.

"Alaric," he said softly, "if this is a dream, then I hope you are dreaming along with me—I owe you an apology for this morning."

The boy gulped again, and could not think what to say in return.

::Courage,:: Corsen whispered in his mind. ::Do not be afraid to ask...he is no longer forbidden to answer, and you are no longer forbidden to know.:: With that cryptic remark, the Companion retreated beyond view, away into the folds of fog. With a flick of his tail, Altra followed; only the two mortals were left together.

Alaric shut his eyes tight for a moment. If I do not ask now, he thought, I may never know. I shall never have this opportunity again. Even if I risk souring our relationship further, I must ask!

He opened his eyes again, and breathed in. "What aren't you telling me?" he asked bluntly. "I feel that I knew you before I ever came to Haven, but that is impossible. Then why is it that you are so familiar?"

There, he thought. Whatever may come, it is said!

Karal sighed deeply, and was silent for a long moment. He turned his eyes away, and seemed to be debating whether or not to speak. Finally he said, "May Vkandis forgive me for telling you this—I do not know if it will relieve your suffering or make it worse, but I cannot find it in my heart to remain silent any longer."

For the first time, his eyes met Alaric's. The faint smile that Alaric had noticed that first day crossed the Karsite's dark face as he drew near to his student.

"You have heard something of the Mage Storms that plagued both Valdemar and her neighbors may years ago, yes?" Karal asked.

The boy nodded.

"I was a member of the party who went to Dhorisha Plains," the priest continued, "to deal with the problem at its source. There is usually a price to pay for meddling in such occult matters, and we all paid it..."

Alaric inhaled sharply, realization dawning upon him. "That's how you lost your sight?"

Karal nodded sadly. "Yes, I was blinded then. But I lost a good friend there, also—he was a Companion who became my guide and teacher when I first came to Valdemar. His name was Florian." The older man was silent for a moment, struggling with an old grief that came welling up, loosened after many years. At last, he recovered his voice. "Vkandis acts in mysterious ways—I've devoted the entirety of my life to studying His words and deeds, and am no closer to understanding them. But one night after that terrible day in Urtho's Tower, he met me in a dream, much as we are meeting now. He said something forbidden to me, as I am telling you something forbidden: he said he would return to this world, the same soul in a new shape, with a new name. He is now called Alaric; he has blue eyes and brown curls, and is much too curious for his own good."

Silence fell momentarily between them. Then they both burst into incredulous laughter. Alaric could see tear tracks staining his teacher's eyes and cheeks, and felt a warm dampness on his own face. The sleeves of Karal's robe enfolded him, and they embraced tightly.

"Ah," the Karsite breathed. "I do not think I can ever bless the Sunlord enough for bringing you back to me. I do not understand how it can be—but it is so, and...and..." He fell silent as his heart brimmed with grief and gratitude and overwhelming relief. Alaric too felt as if his mortal heart was flowing over with all the emotions he felt. Tantalizing hints from countless lifetimes came to his mind and disappeared just as quickly: the names he'd known this man under, the faces he'd known and loved, the dangers and joys they'd known together. It was enough and more than enough just to be acknowledged by Karal, to know he felt the same compelling familiarity, to have all of the secrecy and distance between them torn away.

Karal finally pulled away from the embrace to wipe his eyes on the hem of his sleeve. Years seemed to have been washed from his countenance by tears, and a lop-sided, almost boyish grin crossed his face.

"If Altra were here, he'd be quick to point out what spectacles we are making of ourselves," he laughed.

Alaric dabbed his own eyes ineffectually. "No doubt," he said. "Corsen too, I'll bet." He shook his head. "I can hardly believe it—it seems so incredible. Me, a Companion from another lifetime! I don't know what to make of it. But it's so good to finally _know_, to have no doubts. Every time I spoke up in class, you acted so strangely, and I didn't know what to think."

A sorrowful look came into Karal's dark eyes. "I hope you can forgive me for it," he said quietly. "Until Altra brought me here, he had told me that I was forbidden to speak of the matter to you. And...and I did not know how you would react to the knowledge. I did not want to risk driving you further from me, or upsetting you with it." He sighed. "I am truly sorry."

"Don't be," Alaric replied. "The greater evil would have been to not tell me at all."

The older man nodded silently. They stood there for a long time, simply looking at each other, simply being in one another's presence. Indeed, it was enough, and more than enough.

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Author's notes: Sorry for the delay in posting this, but it took quite awhile to figure out how exactly to write this scene. I've tried to convey the full strength of the feelings between Karal and Alaric, and I hope I've done them justice here. Thanks for your patience, and enjoy!


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